Our Yesterday
by gladysnotw
Summary: Many know the odd relationship between Sherlock and John Watson, but only one has seen it as a sign of weakness. Moriarty kidnaps John and plans to use him to truly discover how far Sherlock will go to get his friend back. Will he see the great detective break or will this only make the two friends grow stronger?
1. Chapter 1

His eyes were heavy and he felt a sharp pain coming from his head. John let out a small groan as he opened his eyes to discover he was in a room with a bright lamp hanging from the ceiling to keep him company.

He tried to stand from his sitting position but quickly realized he was bound to a chair. Panic overcame him and his breathing increased in speed.

The door ahead of him opened as the man he hated entered.

"Moriarty..." John breathed.

"Well, hello, Johnny! Rise and shine, even if it's still dark out. But you wouldn't know that, would you?" Moriarty chirped as he approached the doctor.

"Where am I?" John asked, angrily.

"No need to give me an attitude. Before we get into the boring stuff, let's talk a bit. How's Sherlock? I mean, since the last time you saw him?"

John lowered his eyes and Moriarty smiled. "Sorry to rub salt on a wound, Johnny. I know you two had a nasty fight the other day."

John's eyes darted at Moriarty. "It's none of your business."

"It's definitely my business, old boy. Rather foolish of you to walk away from your protector like that, John. Don't you think?"

"He's not my protector." John spat.

"Don't deny it. Whenever anything happens to his precious John, he leaps into action. I'll prove it to you."

Moriarty reached into his coat and took a cellphone. John's eyes narrowed.

"My phone," he gasped.

"Trust me, it gets better. Sherlock will be just as shocked." Moriarty laughed as he began dialing.

John struggled against his bonds, breathing heavily. "No! No, please, don't."

Too late. Moriarty had already dialed and was now waiting for Sherlock to answer. While he waited, he took out a gun from inside his coat and aimed it at John's forehead. Swallowing and saying a silent prayer, John closed his eyes in pure terror.

"Shame on you for keeping me waiting, Sherlock." Moriarty said, finally.

John opened his eyes as he heard Sherlock's small voice from the phone.

"Relax, dear boy. John's right here."

Moriarty cocked the gun and raised an eyebrow, as he placed the phone by John's ear.

"Sherlock..."

John's voice cracked and he shut his eyes in regret. Moriarty smiled in satisfaction.

"You'll be alright, John. Don't worry, do you understand?" Sherlock said, failing to restrain any panic he felt.

Before John could answer, Moriarty put the phone back to his own ear. "He sends his love! I plan to send you a clue in a few days. So, keep your eyes open!"

He stopped talking and John heard Sherlock's angry voice protesting.

"Now, watch yourself. Unless you don't expect to find your poor doctor in one piece." Moriarty said, now speaking with a snarl.

John hung his head, feeling helpless. Moriarty hung up and lifted John's head with his finger.

"Keep your chin up, dear! Your knight in shining armor will find you soon enough."

"He won't play your game to look for me. You're wasting your bloody time." John spat.

"I hate to disagree with you, Johnny, but he will. He cares for you too much." Moriarty replied, tracing John's jawline.

Without another word, Moriarty left the room and John could do nothing more than hope for Sherlock to make the right choice.

* * *

Hours passed as John sat alone in the room. The door opened once more and Moriarty stepped inside. John shut his eyes in annoyance as Moriarty approached him. He knelt down in front of John and side-smiled.

"You miss him, don't you? I can see it."

John grimaced. "Excuse me?"

"Sherlock's a lucky man, indeed. To have someone like you by his side," Moriarty replied.

John rolled his eyes. "We're not-"

"A couple? Oh, don't be so boring, Johnny! Everyone knows that you two are just destined for each other. Sherlock's a clever man that loves what he does-"

"Exactly. He's in love with his _work,_ " John spat.

Moriarty stared at John briefly and reached out to stroke his cheek. "With his work? I don't think so, John. You see, a man like Sherlock may _seem_ like he's got his life together with nothing more than himself and his _work_ to worry about. But, all it takes is a little man like you to turn that around."

"How would you know about it?" John snapped.

Moriarty raised both eyebrows. "Well, when one hears rumors about the relationship between a doctor and Sherlock, you get curious. I've seen the way he looks at you. You care about each other."

John groaned. "But we're not-"

"So, all I did, was take away what Sherlock cares about the most. Now, I have complete control over him."

John's heart began to beat hard against his chest as Moriarty leaned closer to his face. John leaned his head back and turned his face away from him. Suddenly, Moriarty felt a buzz in his coat. He took out his cellphone and answered the call.

"Missed me already, Sherlock?"

John held his breath. "Sherlock..."

Moriarty smiled. "He's alright. Don't you fret. I'll let you say 'hello'."

Moriarty brought the phone towards John and whispered, "Go on. Tell him that you miss him."

Swallowing, John shook his head. Moriarty frowned at that and smiled as he spoke into the phone. "Hold on a sec."

Reaching for his gun, Moriarty pointed it at John's forehead. "Do what I say, John. This doesn't need to get any uglier."

"Without me, you can't have any influence over Sherlock. You might as well just kill me." John said, trying to sound brave.

Moriarty's face looked hurt. "I'm not going to kill you, John. So hasty!"

He pointed the gun to John's leg and fired the gun. John let out a loud cry of pain as Moriarty brought the phone close to him. John could hear Sherlock's voice.

" _John? John! John, can you hear me?! John, what's wrong?"_

Shutting his eyes, John watched as blood began to stain his pants. Moriarty picked up the bloody bullet that lay beside John's leg. It had only grazed his leg, but it hurt like hell. He wiped it clean and turned his attention back to the call.

"I honestly don't understand how you can stand him, Sherlock." Moriarty sighed.

John felt hot tears fill his eyes, but he tried to keep them in. Moriarty continued, "You have another hour, Sherlock. Use your head and don't keep us waiting."

He hung up and gently shushed John, who was heavily breathing. He cupped the side of John's face and shushed him again.

"Better get you ready. He'll be here soon." Moriarty whispered.

John hung his head as Moriarty stepped behind him to tighten his bonds. He bit his lip, trying to ignore the pain in his leg, but it stung and burned at his flesh. His eyes shut tightly as the bonds were tightened, burning his wrists. A small sob escaped John's mouth and Moriarty stepped in front of him.

"Please..."

Moriarty's eyes widened. "What?"

John hesitated and raised his eyes up at him. His eyes were watery and his lip quivered for a second. "Don't do this..."

Moriarty lifted John's chin with his hand and looked at him in sympathy. "This is going to hurt, John. I know it. But, you'll just have to deal with it. The same way that I did. It's all good fun, you'll see, my dear."

He released John's chin and walked behind him again. John shut his eyes as he heard the sudden rip of tape from behind him. Gently, Moriarty placed a large strip of it over John's mouth. He pressed it down and stepped out of the door without another word.

~x~

 **A/N: This is my first Sherlock fic! Decided to take a break from Harry Potter and LOTR and wrote this little fic. I don't think I'll be able to update this often since I don't own a computer, but we'll see how it goes! Hope you liked reading this and thanks for reading! More to come...**


	2. Chapter 2

Moriarty spoke truthfully. Sherlock arrived after a few hours. Or, at least, John assumed he did. Moriarty burst into the room with a gun in his hand and rushed towards John. He was at lost for words, excited and ready.

"Get ready, Johnny. Is that the best you can do? Come on. Can't you smile? For Sherlock?" Moriarty mocked.

John gave him a hard glare and earned small slap in the face. "Don't be boring, John! I said, _smile_!"

He pinched John's cheek and gave it a wiggle, making him moan behind the tape. He shut his eyes and felt nothing but pure terror.

"Leave him alone, Jim."

The poor doctor knew that voice. Moriarty let him go and turned to face the door. Sherlock aimed a gun at him and he laughed. John's breathing increased as he looked hopefully at his friend. Sherlock looked at John and gave him a long stare, no doubt scanning him for injuries.

"Well, this is interesting, isn't it?" Moriarty chirped.

Sherlock turned his attention back to him. "Let him go. _Now_."

His grip on the gun tightened and his eyes narrowed. Moriarty laughed. "Don't threaten me, Sherlock. We all know who's really running the show, don't we? You found your dear Watson quicker than expected. I''m proud of you, Sherlock."

Moriarty walked behind John and rested his hands on his shoulders. Slowly, he brought his hands down John's arms, causing him to shiver. Sherlock's eye twitched and he spoke through gritted teeth. "Don't touch him."

"Jealous, Sherlock? I bet you are! Does it really hurt you to see someone else get this close to John?" Moriarty asked in excitement.

Sherlock stared at John, seeing him panic more and more.

 _You'll be okay,_ Sherlock wanted to scream

Moriarty leaned in towards John's ear and spoke quietly. "Does it hurt?"

His hand made its way to John's neck and John shut his eyes, afraid for dear life. Moriarty pressed his cheek against John's and inhaled deeply. Sherlock fired at the wall behind them, making Moriarty jump. John let out a small muffled scream at the sound of the gun.

"Get away from him, Jim!" Sherlock shouted.

Moriarty let out a small giggle. "Oh, so it does hurt! How sweet, isn't it, Johnny?"

He ripped the tape from John's mouth and he gasped for breath. "Sh...Sherlock..."

Moriarty looked at Sherlock and laughed. "It just gets better and better."

He reached into his coat and pulled out the bullet that grazed John earlier. Sherlock eyed it and glanced down at the blood stain on John's pants.

 _Gun...bullet...injured leg...kill._

"I'll make this easier for you, Sherlock dear." Moriarty smiled.

He grabbed John chin and he opened his mouth, struggling and protesting. "Get _off_ -"

Moriarty shoved the bullet in John's mouth and shut it by covering it with his hand. He aimed his gun at John's head, keeping his hand under John's chin.

"I want you to put that gun down, Sherlock." Moriarty said, slowly.

Sherlock laughed. "You think me a fool?"

Moriarty smiled, innocently. "No. I know you'll do it or else."

His used his hand to lean John's head back. John's eyes widened as he tried to keep the bullet from reaching his throat. Sherlock quickly dropped his gun and Moriarty lowered John's head forward once more to keep the bullet from going down John's throat.

"Good, very good. Now, I want you to take one long look at John and tell him how you feel. Look inside that black heart of yours, Sherlock."

John looked at Sherlock, worriedly. He kept the bullet between his teeth and tried to calm down. Sherlock shook his head.

"Why? What would that prove?" he asked.

"Nothing. I'm just curious to know what you'd say to him." Moriarty replied, still smiling.

Despite Moriarty grasping his chin, John managed to speak. "Don't say anything, Sherlock!"

Moriarty shushed him and covered his mouth with his hand. "I'm waiting."

Sherlock kept trying to find his way around somehow. He looked around the room but couldn't think of anything to do. Moriarty began to grow impatient. He pressed the gun harder against John's ahead, causing him to cringe.

"Stop it!" Sherlock yelled.

"You don't think I'll do it! I _swear_ I will kill this man, Sherlock!" Moriarty shouted.

"You're my best friend, John! I care about you and I wouldn't want anything to happen to you! I know we argue over the stupidest things, but in the end it means nothing. You're the only friend I have. You are...my friend." Sherlock said, staring into John's eyes.

Before anyone could say anything, Moriarty hit John in the head with his gun, causing him to spit out the bullet. Sherlock closed his eyes in relief.

"Very touching, Sherlock. Bye now!" Moriarty sang as he fired at Sherlock.

The bullet sank into his shoulder and he fell onto the floor in pain. John stared in pure horror. "Sherlock!"

Sherlock heard his name being shouted several times. His eyes closed and the pain at his shoulder increased with every breath. Everything went black. But, before it did, the last thing he saw was John staring at him as he was being dragged away.

* * *

~x~


	3. Chapter 3

.John was dragged outside the building and shoved into the back of a white van. Moriarty panted and sighed with relief as the van drove off. He aimed his gun at John and smiled.

"That was fun. Did you see his face when I shot him?" Moriarty asked, laughing.

John shut his eyes, trying not to remember. But, how could he not? Sherlock's face looked pale and his shoulder was bleeding uncontrollably as they rushed out.

Moriarty lowered his gun and stretched. He stared at John and smiled a bit. "I'll never forget how he looked at you. That night when I had that bomb on your chest."

John remembered that night. Moriarty had a bomb strapped to his chest and forced him to say every word that he commanded him to. Sherlock, at first, thought John had betrayed him.

His face filled with disbelief and shock and John was forced to undergo the torture.

"I noticed there was something very...special about you that day, John. Even with a bomb and a sniper, you tried to save Sherlock."

John averted his eyes away from Moriarty's, breathing heavily.

"Why do you do it, John? You remain faithful to Sherlock, even when I framed him. He only had support from you."

When he saw that John wasn't responding Moriarty sighed loudly and leaned back. "Why don't you ever look at me, Johnny boy? I guess it's like I said before, pets are very loyal to their owners."

John clenched his jaw but kept his eyes off of Moriarty. That's all he wanted from him. A reaction. Anything to let him know that he had John in the palm of his hand.

Moriarty dragged himself across the floor, sitting closer to John. His hand reached out and began stroking John's hair. John kept his eyes looking straight ahead.

Moriarty leaned and spoke by John's ear. "You're a good boy, aren't you? Sherlock's little pet. Know any good tricks, Johnny boy?"

The next thing Moriarty saw was John's head smashing into his face. Moriarty's hand flew to his nose and felt blooding trickling down. He stared at his bloody fingers and laughed.

"Good! Very good! I always loved that about you. So loyal, so brave. And everyone gives Sherlock the credit."

John spoke through gritted teeth. "Well, he is the one with the brains, after all. I just blog about it."

Moriarty put on a face of sympathy. "Poor John. Always the man on the side. How could he treat you like that?"

His hand cupped the side of John's face and traced his jawline. "Trust me. I'd have it no other way."

"You don't mean that, do you, John? Wouldn't you want someone to give you attention? To let you know how special you are to them?"

Moriarty didn't speak with a high-pitch or mocking voice like he usually did. His voice was quiet and smooth. He gently ran his hand through John's hair and down his neck.

"To just...love you?"

John's eyes found their way to Moriarty's. They stared at each other for a moment until John broke the silence. He started chuckling.

Moriarty blinked. "You find what I'm saying funny?"

"You know, you really had me going for a minute there. You truly are a maniac." John said, as he laughed.

Moriarty lost his soft eyes and calmness. His face creased with anger as he stared at the laughing doctor. He grabbed His gun and pressed it at John's forehead.

"You ought to know, John, that I'm not a man to be meddled with. If I want something, I do whatever it takes to get it. Whatever it takes."

John swallowed as he listened. Moriarty removed the gun and tossed it aside. His hands cradled John's face as he leaned closer to it.

"I wondered why Sherlock kept you under his wing all this time. But, no more. You are...beyond amazing."

John swallowed hard. "I try."

Moriarty laughed a bit and licked his lower lip. "I was planning on killing you after all of this. But you know that I can be so changeable."

"Moriarty, I really-"

"Oh, don't call me that. James is fine."

John closed his eyes and sighed. "Moriarty...I really think you should rethink this before you do anything drastic."

"I've done a lot of thinking, my dear, and I have come to a decision. I don't want to hurt you."

"That's very..."

Moriarty raised his eyebrows.

"...thoughtful."

"Don't thank me. I'm only thinking of you."

John sighed in annoyance. "Now, see? That's where the big problem is. I don't think you realize my true feelings about you."

Moriarty looked like he was holding a sob as he nodded. "I know it's a big change for you, dear John. I hardly know-"

John groaned aloud. "For the love of God, I hate you!"

Silence. Moriarty grimaced, confused. "What's that?"

"What? Did you not hear me? Have I not made myself clear? I'll gladly repeat myself. I. Hate. You. James Moriarty."

Moriarty stared at John, as if the message still wasn't clear. But, John wasn't finished.

"You think I couldn't? You strapped a bomb to my chest, threatened to shoot me, threatened to shoot my friend, and now you've taken me against my will to get to him."

Moriarty looked at John as if he were hearing this for the first time and didn't have a clue as to what he was saying.

"Now, you think you can just write me a sob story and tell me that you-"

Moriarty punched John in the jaw and grabbed his shirt collar. John felt his breath on his face and shut his eyes.

"I was always jealous of Sherlock because he had you. Not anymore. I have you now, and I don't have any intention of losing you or giving you up."

Blood seeped from John's lower lip, catching Moriarty's attention. He gently wiped it with his thumb.

"I didn't want to hurt you, my dear. I hope you know that."

The van came to a stop. John's chest tightened as the back doors of the van opened. Two men hoisted John to his feet. Moriarty got up, adjusting his tie.

"Take him inside, but be gentle with him," he commanded, running his hand along John's cheek.

* * *

"I am sick of you and your bloody body parts lying around the flat! It's disturbing and it terrifies me!" John yelled at Sherlock.

"They're not-they're experiments, John." Sherlock argued.

John rubbed his temples and sighed. "You just take advantage of me, you know that?"

"Excuse me?"

"You never care about me or how I feel about your "experiments". You always insist on doing things your own way and not giving a _damn_ about what I think!"

"Oh, don't talk like that, John. You sound like a child when you do." Sherlock said, rolling his eyes.

"Me? Clearly you haven't looked in the mirror recently."

"What do you want an apology? Fine, then. I'm sorry. Satisfied?"

"No, not until you get rid of the bag of thumbs under my bed and the head in the freezer." John said, pointing at the kitchen.

"I will do no such thing. I need them for experiments, didn't you hear me?"

"It's disgusting, Sherlock!"

"Then, don't look under your bed and if you're hungry, eat at a restaurant. I don't care, John. But, don't make me give up my work."

John threw his hands in the air. "Oh, your bloody work. You know, I really get tired of that rubbish. You and your work are the only things that matter."

"Yes, they are. Did you just realize that?" Sherlock spat.

"You get all the glory and attention."

"I thought you hated publicity."

"I do, but I just wish you'd remember who makes you so popular and who helps you solve the cases."

Sherlock grimaced. "Don't tell me your talking about that stupid blog of yours."

John slammed his hand on his laptop as it sat on the table. "My _stupid_ blog is the reason people are starting to pay better attention to you and ignoring the fact that you're a psychopath."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'm not a-"

"Don't say it. You know what? I'm done." John said, shaking his head.

He grabbed his coat and angrily put it on, buttoning it up. Sherlock watched as he stormed across the room, towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked.

"You tell me. You're the great bloody detective."

Sherlock heard John hurry down the stairs and slam the front door. He exhaled loudly and ran a hand through his curly hair.

Through the window, he saw John step between two buildings and into the darkness of the night. Sherlock threw himself on the couch and sighed.

"That went well. Bloody well. There are times where I just can't stand that Watson. Can't stand him. It's always my fault, isn't it? It drives me mad. Completely mad."

He sighed again and rubbed his forehead. "Now, I'm talking aloud to myself. I'm completely mad."

John walked with his hands in his pockets through the alley. Small puffs of white escaped his mouth as he breathed aloud.

He stopped when he heard a small noise. Slowly, he looked around but saw no one around.

Frustrated, he kicked a trashcan. He sighed and shook his head. "I can't stand it. It's maddening."

Suddenly, something wrapped around John's neck, strangling him. He let out a choked cry but it wasn't loud enough to get attention. The object around his neck felt like a leather belt. He couldn't breathe.

He fell backwards and slammed the back of his head on the cement. His vision blurred and his eyes felt heavy. Then, darkness.

~x~


	4. Chapter 4

John was thrown into a room, untied and exhausted. The only thing in the room were a few boxes, a chair, and a window near the ceiling. The two men who brought him there moved aside when Moriarty stepped inside.

"I can be civil, John. I hate seeing you being treated like you're forced to be here."

John gritted his teeth. "Then, let me go."

Moriarty giggled and shook his head. "I don't think so. Don't be so hasty to leave, John. I have big, big plans for you."

He stood in front of John, smiling. John saw his chance. The two men had left and it was just him and Moriarty. But, he had to be careful and wait for the right moment to attack. He decided to play Moriarty's game.

"Plans? You mean there's more to this game?" John asked.

"Oh, yes, dear John. I saw how desperate Sherlock was to save you and it just sparked something of me." Moriarty replied, cheerfully.

John grimaced. "And, what was that?"

Moriarty smiled, widely. "Jealousy, dear John. I was jealous because Sherlock had someone he cared about. Someone he would fight for. And, me? Well, I have no one. At first, I planned to kill you both back there, but seeing Sherlock look at you the way he did...it changed my mind."

His words slowed down and his hand reached to touch John's cheek. His chest tightened as Moriarty got closer to his face.

John swallowed. "So, you plan to use me to get to Sherlock again. Only this time...you'll kill him. And, as for me..."

Moriarty smiled and finished for him. "I'll keep you all for myself. And, that's all I want right now, John."

Moriarty leaned closer, eyeing John's mouth. He licked his lips and drew closer. John didn't fight. He remained still as Moriarty drew closer.

Then, he slammed his head forward and Moriarty cried out in pain, holding his nose. John wrapped his arm around Moriarty's neck as his goons rushed in, holding guns.

"Get back!" John yelled.

Moriarty laughed. "This feels familiar, doesn't it, John?"

"Shut up." John said, harshly.

"I love this about you, John. I just love it."

John looked around, trying to make his next move. Moriarty, however, was quicker. He kicked John's injured leg and felt his arm let him go. John cried out in pain and slowly put his hands up. The two goons ran up to him and grabbed each of his arms, pinning them behind his back.

He struggled but it was useless. Blood fell from Moriarty's nose and his lower lip. He adjusted his tie and chuckled.

"It's useless to fight against me, John. Just face the fact that I will never let you go," he said, lifting John's chin with his hand.

John shook his head out of Moriarty's grip with a grunt. Frowning, Moriarty kicked John's injured leg again, causing burning tears to fill his eyes.

Moriarty grabbed John's chin but he tried to shake away. He spoke viciously to John, grinding his teeth.

"Hey. LOOK at me. I tried to pour my black heart out to you, but you have blocked out anything and everything I say. I wanted to spend my life with you, John."

John looked at Moriarty, terrified. Moriarty was speaking truthfully. His eyes narrowed and he slapped John across the face. Hard. His goons kept him from falling down.

"You see me as the bad guy and nothing else. Well, you've just gotten your wish." Moriarty spat.

His goons dragged John to the chair and tied him up. Once they had finished, Moriarty asked them to leave. They closed the door and John kept his eyes on the floor, as Moriarty approached him.

"You're such a loyal little thing, John. Sherlock would be so proud of his pet. He must be because he's trained you so well."

"I'm not his pet." John spat.

Another slap in the face. John's cheek burned.

"He can't hear you, John. So there's no point in keeping up the charade," Moriarty mocked.

John said nothing. Moriarty kneeled down so he was at his eye level. His hands grabbed John's thighs and slid all the way up to his face.

"I could kiss you, John."

John shut his eyes. Moriarty pressed his forehead against John's, breathing heavily.

"Has Sherlock kissed you?"

John didn't answer. This fueled Moriarty's anger as he slapped John again. He grabbed John's chin, roughly. Tears built up in John's eyes but he held them in.

"Answer me!" Moriarty shouted.

Nothing. Another slap. The tears couldn't be held in. They dripped down his cheeks and Moriarty mocked him.

"Oh, poor John," he whispered, "I told you that I didn't want to hurt you."

He wiped one of them with his thumb, then licked it. John shook his head.

"He's going to kill you."

Moriarty slapped him again. "He can't even find me!"

"He'll kill you," John said.

Moriarty pulled out a small knife and grabbed John's chin. "Say that again! I dare you! Say one more word and I will cut your tongue off!"

Not wanting to anger him anymore, John held his tongue. Taking a deep breath, Moriarty stepped away from him. He adjusted his jacket and cleared his throat like a business man about to give a presentation.

"You'll regret everything you said, you little pest. Wait and see," Moriarty snarled, pointing at John.

He turned and left the room. John hung his head and couldn't help but cry a bit. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see Sherlock burst through that door and rescue him.

Sherlock, where the bloody hell are you?


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock was treated and his shoulder was alright. He and Mycroft met at Baker street and entered the flat.

"That you, Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson called from the kitchen.

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson. No time to chat. Mycroft and I will be upstairs." Sherlock replied.

He and Mycroft sat upstairs by the table, trying to figure out where Moriarty had taken John.

"He didn't leave a hint?" Mycroft asked.

"Nothing. He just shot me, grabbed John, and left." Sherlock replied, folding his hands and resting his chin on them.

"That's a bit unlike him, isn't it?"

Sherlock ignored the question and stared at the wall in front of him. John had been missing for days. Almost a week.

He stood up and paced around the room. Mrs. Hudson called from downstairs.

"Oh, Sherlock, I forgot to mention something!"

He continued pacing. "Not now, Mrs. Hudson!"

Mycroft looked at the open door as Mrs. Hudson's voice filled the air again.

"It's a package, dear! Came in a few hours ago!"

Sherlock stopped and glanced at Mycroft. He hurried down the stairs where Mrs. Hudson was waiting for him. She held a small, thin box and gave it to him.

"Who brought this?" Sherlock asked.

Mrs. Hudson shrugged. "Wish I could say, Sherlock."

He walked back up the stairs as he opened the box. Inside was a disk. He slipped it into his television and turned it on.

Mycroft joined him as he sat on the couch, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. Moriarty appeared on the screen.

He smiled, largely. "Well, hello, Sherlock! If you're watching this, I'm assuming you're not dead. Sorry about the shoulder, old boy, but you pulled my hand."

Mycroft glanced at Sherlock who stared at the screen. A sound could be heard in the background but neither of them could decipher what it was.

Moriarty continued. "Anyway, I just wanted to give you a news update on your little pet."

They heard the noise again, and, this time, Sherlock knew what it was. Moriarty stepped aside from the camera to reveal John in the background.

Tied to a chair with a rag tied between his lips, he kept shaking his head and giving muffled protests. Moriarty stepped behind him and placed his hands on his shoulders.

Sherlock's jaw tightened as he saw John's frightened eyes. Moriarty held John's head still by grabbing his chin.

"Smile, John! Smile for Sherlock. I'm sure he'd love to see how much fun we're having." Moriarty sang.

He pressed his cheek against John's and giggled. John struggled but Moriarty had a strong grip on his chin. John inhaled loudly through his nose and closed his eyes.

Moriarty planted a kiss on John's cheek and smiled.

"We'd love to have you join us, my dear Sherlock." Moriarty said, stepping in front of John once more to wave at the camera.

He turned his attention back to John. "Wouldn't we, John?"

John's cries were muffled as he continued shaking his head. Moriarty looked back at the camera.

"One second, Sherly."

He raised his hand and slapped John across the face, causing him to be quiet. Moriarty faced the camera again and smiled.

"Pets. They're a little difficult to contain, but they learn, eventually. We're at the old warehouse near the dock, if you were curious. You'll find John on the second floor. Happy hunting!"

The screen filled with static snow. Mycroft glanced at Sherlock as he got to his feet.

"Sherlock, wait a minute, will you? You can't possibly believe that he really gave you their exact location."

"I do." Sherlock said, loading his gun.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Sherlock, why would he do that?"

"All Moriarty wants is a show. He wants a show of John and me. That's all." Sherlock replied.

"You're not going alone."

"Oh, I don't plan to. You and your men must surround the area, but do it six blocks from the actual warehouse."

Mycroft winced. "What? Why?"

"I'm going inside alone. I'm not expecting them to be inside when I get there."

Sherlock hurried out of the room with Mycoft following behind.

"Wait, what are you saying?"

##

John hated when Moriarty was in the room with him. All he did was stare at him. It made him uncomfortable, but, of course, John wouldn't let Moriarty know.

"Not to be rude, but I'd really like some alone time," John spat.

Moriarty chuckled. "You don't get the purpose of all of this, do you, John?"

"To be perfectly honest, I don't see the purpose in anything you do." John said, closing his eyes in annoyance.

Moriarty inhaled deeply and shook his head. "Sherlock has gifted me with so many things. I feel like I owe him something in return."

"And, may one dare ask what that is?"

Moriarty smiled. "Desperation."

He leaned close to John's face and grinned. "Desperation?"

"Yes, my dear John. Desperation makes even the cleverest of men go mad. It, shall we say, reveals any negative traits about themselves."

John stared angrily into Moriarty's eyes. This made him smile and chuckle.

"You'll see. Soon enough, Sherlock will break because he doesn't have his loyal pet by his side."

John's face hardened. He spat in Moriarty's eye, causing him to draw back and wipe it. A laugh escaped from his mouth and he looked back at John, who kept a glare on the maniac.

"We'll be saying goodbye soon, John. I'm going to miss our little talks. I learn so much about you." Moriarty grinned.

John smirked. "Funny, I don't learn anything about you because you're exactly what I think you are. A maniac."

Moriarty's smile faded and he stepped closer to John. "Is that so?"

John said nothing. Moriarty suddenly gave John's injured leg a hard kick. He let out a scream of agony and was kicked again.

"Call for help, John! Call for Sherlock!" Moriarty laughed as he kicked John again and again in the same place.

John shut his eyes and tried not to scream or cry. However, it could not be helped. His cries filled the room until he had had enough.

"Please, stop!"

Moriarty ignored his cry and laughed aloud. His mouth was wide open as he laughed. His laughter was only fueled by John's pitiful cries.

"Sherlock!" John cried.

###

After a few hours, John heard police sirens from afar. He gave a hopeful moan through the rag in his mouth. His muscles were sore and his jaw ached. His leg was in need of medical attention, an he was exhausted.

Moriarty burst in the room and hoisted him up from the chair. He kept a gun aimed at John's back as he led him out of the room. John heard shooting and yelling from below. Sherlock.

Moriarty led him through a back door and across the dock. John eyed the freezing water and swallowed. It was freezing outside as he felt the cold air gnaw at his face.

At the edge of the dock, Moriarty had John get on his knees as he aimed his gun at his head. "Alas, this I where I say goodbye, dear John. It hurts me more than it hurts you."

John looked up at Moriarty, terrified at what he might do next. Moriarty smiled down at him. Before Moriarty could say another word, Sherlock ran across the dock, towards them. He held a gun in his hand.

"Ah, ah, put the gun down, Sherlock," Moriarty warned.

Sherlock froze and looked down at John. "John..."

"Put the gun down, Sherlock!" Moriarty snapped.

Obediently, Sherlock put the gun down and put his hands up in surrender. "What do you want, Jim?"

Moriarty smiled. "I want you to let me walk away without you or any of your police friends following me."

Sherlock smiled, amused. "I can't promise that."

The gun at John's head, cocked and John closed his eyes.

"Well, you're smart. I'm sure you'll think of an excuse. I'd hate for you to have a funeral for John and lose the body in the water," Moriarty replied.

Sherlock gave a small nod. "Don't shoot him. Let him go and you can walk away from this."

"Get rid of your gun, first." Moriarty replied.

With a kick, Sherlock sent his gun to the depths of the icy water. "Alright. Now, release him."

"Don't rush the goodbye, Sherlock. So rude!" Moriarty whined.

Moriarty knelt down and looked into John's frightened eyes. He closed his eyes and gently placed a kiss on his forehead. Sherlock's eye twitched and Moriarty stood up straight, content and happy.

"I'll come back to see him soon. Don't miss me too much!" Moriarty sang.

He lifted his leg and kicked John on the shoulder, sending him into the water. Sherlock felt his heart stop.

"John!"

Without thinking, he remove his coat and dived into the water after his friend.


	6. Chapter 6

The water was dark and the cold gnawed at his flesh as he swam towards John. He reached out his hand and grabbed the doctor's arm, pulling him to the surface. They both gasped for breath as John coughed through the gag.

Sherlock quickly untied it and John's hands. John choked and wiped his face from the water. He held onto Sherlock as they climbed back onto the dock.

John laid down and tried to catch his breath. Quickly, Sherlock placed his coat over John and shushed him. "I need you to breathe, John."

"I am breathing..." He replied.

They heard several men heading their way with Mycroft leading them. He knelt down by Sherlock and gasped when he saw John.

"An ambulance is on the way. Hold on there, John. You'll be alright. You're safe now," Mycroft assured him.

Shivering, John nodded and gave a silent whisper, "Thank you."

The ambulance arrived and took the three gentleman to the hospital. John was given several blankets and was under tight care. Sherlock sat by his bed and clenched his fists.

"I will make him pay for this. I swear, John."

John shook his head, weakly. "No...just don't."

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "I won't let him get away with this."

"You can't always win, Sherlock," John moaned.

The detective stood up and stormed out of the room. He paced the floor, thinking. John closed his eyes and tried to rest. His leg wasn't broken, thankfully. It was severely bruised so he would be given his walking stick again. He didn't care. He was simply happy to be alive.

Sherlock sighed deeply and ran a hand through his curly hair. He would find Moriarty and get even. He nearly got John killed. Mycroft put a hand on his brother's shoulder and tried to calm him.

"You should go home, Sherlock. It's been a rough week for the both of you. I'll stay and keep an eye on John as he-"

Sherlock shook his head and insisted that he stay. "I'm staying here."

Mycroft looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Sherlock."

The curly haired detective wouldn't argue. He was staying by his friend's side until he was ready to go home. Meanwhile, John laid in bed as the nurse turned out the lights.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. The only problem was that he couldn't. His head ache had gotten worse and he felt sore in his leg. He remembered how many times Moriarty had kicked it and bruised it. Shaking his head, he tried not to think on such things. He turned to his side with a groan and sighed. He awoke when he felt someone stroking his hair. His eyes opened but it was too dark to see who it was. When his eyes got used to the dark room, he tried to scream when a hand covered his mouth. The man shushed him and leaned close to his face.

"Good to see you recovering, Johnny boy," Moriarty whispered.

It had to be a nightmare. This couldn't be real. John remained still and kept his eyes on Moriarty.

"I have some things that I want Sherlock to do. Of course, I'll be needing a little help from you. You're always a big help, John."

With that, Moriarty placed a cloth over John's face and pressed it hard. John tried to gold his breath for he could tell it had been dabbed with a strange-smelling liquid. However, he had to breathe eventually.

The smell was sour and sickly sweet. His eyes felt heavy and his mind began to go blank. Then, everything went black and cold.

When his eyes opened, he was on his back on the cold ground. No, too cold to be the ground. John hissed from pain as he slowly sat up. He was on ice. But, how? It was merely beginning to be autumn.

He had on his jacket but still felt cold. His hands shivered and felt numb. It was pitch black and couldn't see a thing. Suddenly, a door opened and light poured into the room. John felt his chest tighten when he realized where he was.

He was in a freezer. Meat hung on hooks and there was ice on the walls. How was he alive? He merely had on the tan jumper he liked to wear and his jacket. Moriarty flicked a switch and the room lit up.

Frightened, John tried to scoot away but his leg stung with pain. Moriarty smiled as he chewed gum.

"I'd go easy on that leg, Johnny. Isn't looking too good," he warned with a smile.

John gave him a cold stare. "Why did you let me go if you were just going to kidnap me again?"

Moriarty circled around John smiling, as if this were all a joke. "The first time was just a bit of fun, really. This time, things are more serious, Johnny. I've seen how far Sherlock will go to save you. Now, we'll use that to our advantage."

Moriarty grabbed a long hook and stared at it as John shook his head. "I'm not helping you. You might as well kill me. Too many people have died and been hurt because of you. I won't be a part of anymore deaths."

"Come on, John. I think you've learned from Sherlock. I feel the same way he does when it comes to being bored," Moriarty grinned as he placed the hook under John's chin.

John stared at him but said nothing.

Removing the hook, Moriarty yawned. "I should be off. I'll turn the temperature up so you'll be comfortable and sleep well. Have a lovely night, my dear!"

The door shut and the light was turned off. John sat alone in cold and pure darkness. He brought his legs to his chest and gave a small sob as he shivered madly.

Then, he softly whispered, "Somebody, please...help me."


	7. Chapter 7

John woke up, surprised he was still alive. He adjusted his jacket and gave a small shiver. There were large pieces of meat hanging off of long hooks and the walls were covered in ice. He tried to get up but his leg prevented it. It had been treated at the hospital but it was going to need constant treatment, not just once.

The door to the freezer opened and Moriarty stepped inside with a clap of his hands. He flicked the switch and the light turned on in the freezer. John squinted and covered his eyes with his hand.

"Time to get busy, John! Daddy's got a lot of things to get done and we haven't much time to do so. Now, get up! Come on, John. Wakey, wakey!"

John hesitated as he tried to get up. His leg began to throb with pain. Moriarty watched with a smile as he folded his arms. Finally, John got up but had to put his hand against the wall to balance himself.

"Today, we'll be escorting you back to the hospital. Once you're there, you-"

John grimaced. "Hospital?"

"Well, yes, it's about to be dawn soon. No one ever noticed you were missing. Now, as I was saying,-"

"Why the bloody hell did you bring me here for one night?"

Moriarty side-smiled. "I was about to get to that part. You're returning home with a special job. You'll be keeping an eye on Sherlock for me."

John shook his head. "No. No, I won't."

Moriarty raised both eyebrowd and leaned into John's face. "Yes, you will. I have eyes everywhere, John. So, if you should try to have another one of your heroic moments, Sherlock goes up."

John narrowed his eyes. "What exactly am I supposed to be looking out for?"

"Oh, we'll keep in touch, my dear. Don't fret about a thing. Just watch yourself, and don't stay in the hospital too long. I'm already growing impatient."

And, with that, Moriarty raised his fist and struck John in the face. When John opened his eyes again, he was in the hospital. Sherlock came into his room and gave a brief smile.

"You're looking rather well. Feeling any better?"

John digested everything that had just happened. Did he just dream what happened last night? He was lost for words.

Sherlock broke his silence. "John? Can you hear me? You alright?"

John blinked. "Uh, no, no. I just...got a bit of a headache. But...it's nothing."

"Well, the doctor said you should remain here for about another day or so."

John remembered Moriarty's words. "C-Can't I just go home? I'm alright, really. I can stand and I don't-"

Sherlock grimaced. "You tried standing on your own? John, that's ridiculous. You could've injured yourself."

"I...sorry. Just thought I would be alright. Really, all I need is my old cane. I can manage on my own."

Sherlock stared at John making mental notes. John swallowed, hoping he didn't give himself away. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Sherlock gave in.

"Very well. I shall speak with Lestrade and the doctor to see what is to be done. Don't worry, you'll be home soon."

Sherlock left the room and closed the door behind him. Letting out a large sigh of relief, John closed his eyes.

"Good, very good."

John's eyes shot open when he heard Moriarty's voice. "What..?"

"Oh, it's an earpiece, dear boy. I can hear everything you're saying, and I can hear whoever speaks to you. Fascinating, isn't it?"

John gritted his teeth. "You bloody pillock. I swear, if you-"

"I won't be hurting Sherlock, Johnny. Not as long as you do as you're told. You understand, I hope?"

John lowered his eyes and shook his head. "Damn..."

* * *

 **A/N: Whelp, I hope you are liking the story so far. Sorry this chapter was so short but I didn't have much inspiration and I didn't want to write a lot and make it crap -_- but anyways, more to come...**


	8. Chapter 8

John decided to lie on the couch when he and Sherlock arrived home. He was exhausted and he just wanted to sleep. Sleeping was sometimes a path to freedom for him. He would be unconscious for several hours and not have a care in the world.

Sherlock heated up a pot of tea and poured himself some. "Tea, John?"

John sighed, deeply. "Why not."

He sat up as Sherlock handed him a cup. Sherlock took a seat and sipped his tea.

"So, I'll be be visiting Molly this afternoon. She thinks she might be able to help with locating Moriarty," Sherlock said.

John remembered the ear piece as Moriarty voice filled his ear. "Stop him."

"Uh, why don't you just...take the day off?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Sorry?"

"I mean, I don't...want to be left here alone all afternoon."

"Mrs. Hudson is going to be downstairs. I'll be sure to let her know-"

"I-I'd rather not. She'll be on me like a hawk and I'd rather not enjoy hearing a tale from her past relationships."

With a pause, Sherlock shrugged. "If you put it like that. But, I cannot stay long. Someone has to find Moriarty."

John shook his head. "Let the police handle this, Sherlock. Please."

Hesitant, Sherlock gave in, lifting a finger. "But, I will not be letting this go, John. I will find Moriarty and skin him for the coward that he is."

Sighing deeply, John laid his head back down and closed his eyes. Sherlock folded his hands and rested his chin on them. As the day went by, John slept most of the day. With the help from the hospital and Mrs. Hudson, his leg was getting better. The ear piece was silent until an hour before sunset.

John sat at the dining table in their small kitchen, sipping a cup of tea. His headache had gone away and he was feeling a bit better. Suddenly, Moriarty's voice filled his ear.

"Hungry, John?"

He held his breath. "Just."

"I'd like to meet up with you. Have a bite to eat. Just you and me."

John swallowed and looked around. "I think I've lost my appetite, to be quite honest."

Moriarty chuckled. "I'll meet you in the alley by the old abandoned restaurant three blocks from your flat. 8 pm, and don't be late!"

The ear piece went silent once more. John gulped and eyed his cellphone. Should he call Lestrade? Should he tell anyone?

He reached out for his phone and paused when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Sherlock entered the room, humming a bit. John raised an eyebrow.

"What's put you in a good mood?"

Sherlock sat down at his desk and side-smiled. "I spoke with Lestrade. He has a trail on Moriarty. Seems a little bird let him know of it."

John rolled his eyes. "A little bird? Sherlock, it may be a tr-"

He held his tongue. It was a trap, but if he told Sherlock that with Moriarty listening, it would kill them both.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Sorry?"

John stuttered. "It's a...t-tricky guess. But, Lestrade must..know what he's doing."

"Indeed. Now, I think we should get a bitw to eat to celebrate. What say you?"

John shook his head. "I...uh, can't. I'm not hungry. Besides, I thought I'd... take a stroll this evening. Alone."

With a shrug, Sherlock got up and grabbed his coat. "Well, stay out of trouble. I'd say it'd be best for you to remain indoors, but what's the point in arguing?"

Surprised, John watched Sherlock head downstairs, humming. John grabbed his own coat and hurried to the window. He watched Sherlock walk across the street and leave from his sight. John exhaled as he plopped himself down on the couch. It was almost 8. He rubbed his temples and sighed.

"God, help me," he muttered.

After several minutes, it was ten minutes past 8. John felt no need to arrive on time. He entered the alley and spotted a table in the middle of it with a small candle sitting on it. Moriarty was sitting there, waiting for him.

He smiled at John and motioned for him to sit. John slowly sat down. Before him was a plate. On it, sat a green apple. He raised both eyebrows and gave a nod.

"Lovely," he commented.

"Oh, I had a tight budget. But, let's discuss what's at hand, Sherlock said he was hot on my trail. It was a false trail, but you figured that out, didn't you?"

"You put a false trail out for Sherlock. Of course, I knew."

"Well, he didn't. He's off somewhere, probably thinking he's right on my tail. He's so adorable when he thinks he's close."

"Well, prepare yourself, Jim."

They both turned and saw Sherlock approaching them with a gun in his hands. Moriarty smiled and stood behind John's chair. Sherlock appeared with Lestrade behind him, also holding a gun.

John gasped, lightly. "Sherlock."

Moriarty grabbed the apple and shoved it in John's mouth. He pulled out his own gun and aimed it at John's head.

"Well, looks who it is, eh, John? You figured out that it was a false trail."

Sherlock gave an amused smile. "I did, indeed."

Moriarty looked down at John and smiled. "I suppose John didn't do his job well enough."

John glared at Moriarty and glanced at Sherlock, shaking his head.

"Bluffing will you do you no good, Jim," Sherlock said.

Lestrade raised an eyebrow. "No, Sherlock. What do you mean, Moriarty?"

Moriarty chuckled. "I mean, John was my puppet all along."

John muffled a protest and shook his head. Moriarty reached into John's ear and removed the earpiece. Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he tossed it towards them. Lestrade picked it up and examined it.

"What is this?" he asked.

"That is how I've been communicating with the little piglet," Moriarty replied.

Sherlock blinked. "What?"

* * *

 **A/N: DUN DUN DUN...more to come...**


	9. Chapter 9

Lestrade kept examining the ear piece until Sheock swiped it from him. He looked at it and held it in his palm. Then, he crushed it. His eyes glanced at John's and he shook his head.

"I don't believe you. You're losing your-"

Moriarty hit John in the head with the gun, causing a large cut to appear on the side of his head. Lestrade gripped his gun, glaring at Moriarty.

"Let him go, or I will shoot you," Lestrade threatened.

Sherlock stared at John as he felt dazed from Moriarty's strike. John had been lying to him for who knows how long.

"That's why you didn't want me to go out and visit Molly. You were trying to cover for Moriarty," Sherlock realized.

John hung his head. There was no denying it. He had helped a criminal. Lestrade glanced at Sherlock as he lowered his gun.

"Sherlock..." Lestrade muttered.

"Let's go, Gavin."

Lestrade frowned. "It's Gre-"

"Let's go!"

John shook his head and managed to spit the apple from his mouth. "Sherlock, no! I helped him but I was only trying to keep you safe. If I didn't help him, he would've killed you and me."

Sherlock put his gun away and shoved Lestrade aside. "You would keep such a thing from me? I could've helped you, John. How could you be so thick?"

Confused, Lestrade said, "Sherlock, what are you saying? John had no choice. He was just-"

"He chose not to tell me!" Sherlock snapped.

John felt a pain in his chest. "Sherlock, if there was anything I could take back-"

Moriarty chuckled and aimed his gun at Lesrrade and Sherlock. "I suggest you two leave before anything gets too ugly."

Lestrade shook his head and glanced at John. "We're not leaving without him."

Sherlock said nothing but kept a cold stare on John. John pleaded with his eyes but he was ignored. Finally, Moriarty began shooting. Lestrade pushed Sherlock away and they both ran for it. Quickly, Lestrade blindly fired back behind his back.

John stumbled down and covered his head as bullets flew above him. Remembering his training, he crawled across the ground, trying to get away from the madness. When the shooting stopped, Moriarty slammed his foot onto John's back, causing him to remain still. He turned John onto his back and aimed his gun at his forehead.

"Go ahead. Do it! I'd rather die than help you do anything!" John shouted.

"Don't wish for death too soon, John. That comes later," Moriarty smirked.

He gave a whistle and two men grabbed John and dragged him away. He fought against them, struggling for his life.

"Help! Somebody, help! Sherlock! Lestrade, help!" John shouted.

They shoved John into a van and the four men drove away. He didn't care if he lived or died, John fought back. The back of the van had two doors to open it. He shoved one of the goons against them, causing him to fall out and o to the pavement as the van drove on.

As John watched the goon roll away, the other goon grabbed him from behind and got him in a headlock. John couldn't breathe. He fought back and threw punches at the goon's arm. The strong goon dragged him down.

John lay on his back with his head hanging out from the back of the van. He could hear the tires brushing against the pavement behind his head. The goon grbbaed his throat and pressed his head back, towards the pavement.

Moriarty saw this and stared down at John. "Now, while you're down there, John, listen to me carefully. You work for me now and you'll have no say in the matter, obviously!"

John grunted as he tried to get up. "I...won't ever work for you!"

Moriarty whined. "You're so rude, John! But, I'm afraid you don't have a choice. Get him up."

The goon grabbed John and got him to stand up. He held John's arms and pinned them behind his back. Exhausted, John gave in. Moriarty smiled in victory at the doctor and grabbed his chin.

"It's not so bad, my dear. You'll probably enjoy yourself."

John quickly opened his mouth and bit Moriarty's hand. He yelped back in pain and laughed a bit. He looked at John and chuckled.

"You like to play dirty, do you? I can play along. But, first, I think you need a timeout, naughty boy!"

John was dragged away to a corner and tied up. His wrists were bound behind him and his arms were tied to his sides. The goon sat him down and moved aside as Moriarty knelt down beside the doctor.

He held his gun a d pressed it roughly against John's cut on his head. With a cry of pain from John, Moriarty smiled.

"Loyalty just doesn't get you anywhere, does it? Shame. Sherlock really meant a lot to you, didn't he? But, I think we both know you meant more to him."

"He'll get over me," John said, coldly.

Moriarty raised both eyebrows. "I don't doubt that. He has his...addiction waiting for him."

With that, Moriarty stood up and left John in horror. Sherlock. Would he really go back to...the drugs? If he had an overdose, John wouldn't be there. What if no one was there?

* * *

 **A/N: NO SHERLOCK! NOT THE DRUGS! Thanks for the reviews! Hope to update soon!**


	10. Chapter 10

John thought being in combat was dreadful. The dead bodies, the exhaustion, the pain. Truly awful. But, it was now a memory of relief. He had spent the next several minutes being beaten. His lower lip was numb and he had a massive pain in his head.

Several of his ribs were broken. He could tell. Moriarty had beaten him to a pulp. He panted aloud as he caught his breath.

"This...is what I should've done..a long time ago," Moriarty chuckled as he raised his fist in the air to strike John again.

John took the punch and spit out a mouthful of blood. "I asked, but you refused."

"It'll just tear Sherlock apart...to hear that your filthy corpse was found in some dark alley, John."

"He won't...bat an eyelash," John muttered.

Moriarty laughed and threw his arms in the air. "Of course. He's had his heart broken by you."

More punches followed. The van stopped and Moriarty dragged John to his feet. "Well, that was fast. We're already here."

It was dark out and John's vision was blurry from the beating he took to the head. Moriarty led the way until he threw John down onto the ground.

"I really, really ought to thank you, my dear John. Without you, no one would've ever really broken the great Sherlock Holmes. But, you helped me do that. So, thank you. Now, I don't have any further use of you."

He kicked John in the stomach and wiped his forehead. John struggled to keep his eyes open. He felt dizzy and his eyelids were heavy.

John felt himself lying on something metal. He slowly sat up and realized he was lying on train tracks. Moriarty took out his gun and aimed it at John.

"So many others tried to bring him down and finish him. They never realized what the key was. Or who it was, rather."

John trembled. "Well...you're welcome."

Meanwhile, back at their flat, Sherlock eyed John's laptop. He blew out a mouthful of smoke and allowed the chemicals to fill and numb him. Lestrade paced the floor, thinking aloud.

"Not a word of news. Where could he have taken him? They could be anywhere by now? What's nearby that alley?"

Sherlock took another puff from his cigar and chuckled. Lestrade glanced at him and shook his head.

"Will you stop sitting there? Your best friend is missing!"

Sherlock side-smiled. "A bloody liar and a spy is all he is."

Lestrade grimaced. "He did it to prevent anything from happening to you. To help you-"

Suddenly, Sherlock stood up. "I need some air. Hold that thought, would you?"

He headed downstairs as Lestrade stood alone, dumbstruck. "What? Sherlock!"

He hurried after him as he heard the front door shut. Lestrade opened it but Sherlock had vanished. He ran into the street and tried to find him, but the detective had gone.

"The train isn't due for another few minutes. Any final words?" Moriarty smiled.

John swallowed. "None that I'd like to say in front of you."

The ground beneath them began to shake. John felt his heart racing as he turned to look to his right. The train was coming.

Moriarty gasped. "That's the train! I should be off, then."

He turned and started to walk off. "Oh, wait!"

Moriarty fired his gun and John cried out in pain. A bullet had lodged into his leg. The train was several feet away and its whistle began to blow aloud. John cringed from the piercing sound.

"Help! Somebody!" John shouted, but his cries were silenced by the train whistle.

Moriarty bent down and grabbed a handful of John's hair. "Look on the bright side, John! After tonight, no one will question me and no one will be in any longer!"

With all his courage, John spit in the villain's face and he drew back. Moriarty chuckled as he hit John in the head where he had the cut.

Suddenly, Moriarty was thrown off his feet. Sherlock held him down and managed to get the gun away from him. It skidded across the ground as the two men wrestled each other.

"How did you-!" Moriarty gasped as Sherlock punched him several times.

John struggled to get off the tracks but every move he made was painful. Sherlock gave Moriarty one final punch before the train passed them.

John gave a hoarse scream and a thud was heard.

Sherlock's eyes shot towards the tracks. John was no longer there. His chest tensed and his breathing paused.

Then, he let out a cry. "JOHN!"

Mouth covered in blood, Moriarty saw his chance to get up. He started to laugh as Sherlock watched the train pass by.

"Pity. He never got a goodbye kiss," he mocked.

Sherlock couldn't tell you what happened after that. He does, however, recall getting ahold of Moriarty's gun. The villain paused and let out a laugh as he put his hands in the air.

"Go on. Avenge your little pet."

Sherlock held the gun tightly as he finger itched to pull the trigger. The train continued passing by as Sherlock felt a sense of delicious revenge. Moriarty was on his knees at his mercy. All it took was a pull of a trigger.

"You ever killed a man, Sherlock?"

"Oh, several. You'd just be the crowning jewel of the list."

Moriarty chuckled. "Well, what's stopping you?"

What was stopping him? Isn't this what John would want? Isn't this what any man with a sense of sanity do?

BANG!

Sherlock dropped the gun and felt his hands trembling. He hung his head and said nothing. Suddenly, he heard a sound. Someone else was there. They were silently weeping. He looked around but saw no one.

"Who's there?" Sherlock asked.

After a pause, a voice filled the air. "Sherlock..?"

Sherlock hurried to the tracks and noticed that a few feet from them was a steep drop. He slowly climbed down into the darkness and felt himself land on something. He heard a grunt and grimaced.

"John?"

With a cough and a small gasp. "Sherlock..."

Sherlock bent down and tried to make out the face. It was John. Quickly, he untied him and placed his head on his lap. John let out a grunt as he rested his head on Sherlock's lap.

"John...are you..alright? Does anything hurt?"

John hissed with pain. "...My leg. Everything bloody hurts!"

Sherlock shushed him and tried to keep him calm. "It's alright. Lestrade should be right behind me."

"..What made you come back?"

"Don't talk. Just stay calm and relax."

"I was nearly killed by a train! How the hell am I supposed to-"

"John!"

They stated at each other for a moment. Suddenly, they heard rapid footsteps and screeching tires.

"Sherlock! John, where are you?"

John felt relief. "Lestrade..."

"We're down here! Get a cot or something! John's badly wounded!"

Lestrade crossed the tracks and looked down to find the two men. "For God's sake, Sherlock...I need men down here, now! We've got a man wounded!"

John rested his head again and sighed. Sherlock put his arm around him and closed his eyes. He watched as two men lifted John away and put him in an ambulance. Lestrade put a hand on Sherlock's shoulder.

"You know, I hate being a bit...well, perhaps it best not to say anything. Your brother has been-"

"I'd rather not hear another word. I must hurry," Sherlock said, hurrying away.

Lestrade blinked. "Wha-? Sherlock, I have questions. Moriarty is dead and-"

"He is not dead. I merely shocked him. Check his pulse if you don't believe me, and give him one those bloody "shock blankets"."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts? More to come...**


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock sat by John's bed as he lay with his eyes closed. With a small moan, John began to speak

"Sher..."

Lestrade entered the hospital to and glanced at Sherlock. "How is he?"

Sherlock shook his head. "See for yourself."

With a sigh, Lestrade put a hand on his shoulder. "Things could've been a lot worse, Sherlock."

"Oh, yes he could've nearly been hit with a train and have a bloody bullet in his leg," Sherlock spat as he covered his face with his hands.

Lestrade gave a small nod. "Well, I was going to say dead, but I can see that wasn't going to make you feel any better. You'll stay with him, then?"

"All night."

Lestrade turned away and nodded. He left the two men alone and exited the room.

John gave another moan and his face twitched. "Sher...Sherlock..?"

Sherlock gave a small smile. "Stop talking. You need the relax. You're safe now."

Slowly, John's eyes opened. "Sherlock? Moriarty...where..?"

"He's gone. Lestrade has him. He won't escape again, I swear."

"What's the word on...my leg?"

Lowering his eyes, Sherlock hesitated. "I...well, nothing can be said-"

"I'll never walk again, will I?"

Sherlock dared a glance at his friend and sighed. "There's always hope, John. Forgive me for being...sentimental."

Blinking away a few tears, John nodded as he stared at the ceiling. "I never though I'd be lame the rest of my life."

"I'll do whatever it takes to help you," Sherlock said a bit too suddenly.

John stared at him. "What? You'll push my wheelchair around when you get back from solving a crime?"

Sherlock grimaced. "Get back? Will a wheelchair stop you from joining me from the intensity and the fun?"

John began to smirk. "Oh, God, no."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts? I think this might be the end! I nay add an epilogue or something but idk, we'll see! Thanks for reading!**


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